Faith In Our Fathers

The FBI and Journalists’ Collusion to Throw the Election Will Corrode America’s Soul

One of the best books you haven’t read is called Flags of our Fathers. Written by James Bradley, the son of Corpsman John Bradley, one of the six men who raised the flag on Iwo Jima, it is a gripping recounting of the little known fates and history of the men on Mount Suribachi in that most iconic of photographs.

As a boy, young James knew that his father was famous and respected in their little town for something, but since his father would neither talk about the mysterious event and even trained his children to deflect the telephone calls that continually came in asking for interviews, it was not until his father died that the boy learned his father was famous.

There is a terrific summary here by Bradley himself – read the book and ignore the film, which I am sad to report was vastly inferior. For beyond the “you are there” retelling of the horrific fighting in those waning months of the war in the Pacific, Bradley’s real gift to the reader is the knowledge of the men after the headlines. Three of the soldiers were killed on the island, while the remaining three came back to the America they fought to defend. The struggle continued for some of them (most famously the Pima Indian Ira Hayes, who unsuccessfully battled alcoholism until his untimely death at 32). Bradley’s father returned to their hometown and became a respected member of the community and Rene Gagnon, the other survivor, a school custodian. And if for no other reason, you must read the book for the story of Ira Hayes’ deep, abiding decency and concern for the truth about who was there, and the need to honor them for that.

More than the press-ready “Heroes in the Photograph” label, the book is ultimately about men who were doing their job even though it cost them dearly. Ira Hayes summed it up as well as any of them: “How can I feel like a hero when I hit the beach with two hundred and fifty buddies and only twenty-seven of us walked off alive?”

Which brings us to the pusillanimous, craven, and generally chickenshit actions of some of the top ranks of the FBI in the past couple of years. While the usual collection of rabid, raving partisans such as the harridans on The View, seemingly captive of the worst, most prolonged case of menopause in history, or Stephen (Democrat’s favorite cock-holster) Colbert view the FBI investigators as heroes, doing God’s work, the truth, as laid out by the Inspector General, is very different.

We have the principled Brave, Brave Sir Peter Strzok (working on both the Clinton and Trump probes, firing off “Fuck Trump” texts with Tourette’s-like regularity) manfully promising his mistress “we’ll stop” Trump from being elected, but when asked about that ringing declaration he went full weasel, stating “he did not specifically recall sending it, but that he believed that it was intended to reassure (his Fellow Agent With Benefits) that Trump would not be elected, not to suggest that he would do something to impact the investigation.”

There were the curious decisions to pretend that Anthony (I wish I had a big) Weiner didn’t have thousands of Hillary Clinton classified emails on his laptop, trying, in the words of Mollie Hemingway, to “run out the election clock before dealing with it.”

The FBI’s Inspector General is full of other rancid tidbits, such as the way the Feebs hid the fact that “No-Scandals” Obama knew that Hillary Clinton had a non-government email address. Or sweet-heart deals that Brave Brave Sir Strzok and his other Knights of the Donkey-shaped Table offered to the Clinton Kool Kidz Clique (such as immunity for the IT yutz who admitted destroying that inconvenient unsecured HRC email server while it was under subpoena) while applying every legal Torquemada device they could to Team Trump for infractions real or presumed. Or the way FBI agents were cozy with journalists, getting awesome swag from the grateful ink-stained wretches just for hanging out with them (and, golly, there’s no way it was a “leak some secrets for lunch” arrangement, no sir!).

The most craven, chickenshit part of all (I know, I know, we’re talking about a target rich environment at this point) is the free-pass that the FBI Inspector General gave to James Comey, the director of the FBI, he “did not find any evidence of political bias or improper considerations impacting the investigation.”

To which the average American will, reasonably, say “Bullshit.”

Worse, the loss of trust in the FBI will be corrosive. Faith in the rule of law will be further degraded. At one time, the FBI was regarded with respect. Now… the top agents have been revealed as Democrat moles in the organization, doing everything they could to slip a shiv between the ribs of Donald Trump’s candidacy, and failing to derail that, turning their sharp but deeply righteous knives on his Presidency, attacking anyone they could to inflict damage on his administration, the will of the electorate be damned.

Thinking of the soldiers who raised that flag on Iwo Jima (every mother’s son of them had been in the shit before that moment), knowing both what they went through and what they did afterwards, I realized they made men in those days. Imperfect, yes. Damaged by the experience, because anything good has a cost to it. But men who understood what duty, honor, and sacrifice were about.

It is a knowledge that is sorely devalued today.

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See the previous cultural essays by Roy M. “Griff” Griffis in his ongoing series:

About the Author

Roy Griffis

I’ve written short stories, plays, poetry, novels, and screenplays. I’m a member of the Writer’s Guild and a former US Coast Guard Rescue Swimmer, as well as an occasional contributor to PJ Media and other conservative websites. My novelThe Big Bang, Volume One of the Lonesome George Chronicles was published January 20, 2015 by Liberty Island Media. The sequel “Bring the Fire” will be published in early 2017. There are three volumes of my “By the Hands of Men” series available (“The Old World,” “Into the Flames” and “The Wrath of a Righteous Man“). A co-creator of the satiric strip “Truesbury,” I also write and perform political satire with The Right-Wing Riot as “The Prince of Whitebread.” I live in Southern California with my wife and family.

Click below for some nice things folks have said about my and my various creative endeavors:

And of my novelThe Big Bang, Volume One of the Lonesome George Chronicles, a few kind words have been spilled, too. Rich Lowry, at the National Review, called it “A wild romp through a post-apocalyptic America unimaginably awful but also highly contemporary. Buckle your seat belts–and prepare to resist.” Ben Shapiro, NYT best-selling author, said it was “Clever, witty, tense, and a thoroughly enjoyable read!”

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In his memoir of the Pacific War, “Goodbye, Darkness,” former Marine William Manchester did an excellent job of describing how and why his generation succeeded in the horrors of war against the Japanese. It shows how far we have slipped in so many ways. “And then, in one of those great thundering jolts in which a man’s real motives are revealed to him in an electrifying vision, I understand, at last, why I jumped hospital that Sunday thirty-five years ago and, in violation of orders, returned to the front and almost certain death. “It was an act of love. Those… Read more »

That is one of the finest memoirs of modern war I’ve ever read. It captured the horror and the honor to be had when facing that awful moment. I’ve often thought the difference between now and then was: We Had A Clear Enemy. Now, to whom do we point as our enemy? I have my own suggestions, but that’s another column. Thanks for reading!